“I’m sorry?” My gaze snapped back to hers. She was all business now.
“Well, I mean, I get it, you have enough money that you don’t have to work work, but really…a hockey arena?” She tilted her head to the side. “Not that I don’t love the Reapers, because I do. I’m absolutely wild for them. Good job of getting the expansion and building the team and all that.”
“Uh. Thanks?” What the hell just happened? “I’m sorry, but it sounds like you’re under the impression that I don’t…work work?”
“Well…not exactly.” She shook her head. “I don’t mean that you don’t work for a living. Obviously you do.” She gestured to the office. “I just figure it’s more of golf course work and less at your desk by nine, if you know what I mean.” She started writing something in the notebook.
“Right. I’m at my desk by seven-thirty most days, and I hate to destroy your expectations, but I hate golf. I’d rather talk business over beer and a hockey game. If I’m going to whack something with a stick, it feels like there should be more of a challenge to it, like other guys trying to steal said ball before I can hit it.” What the hell did she think I did all day?
“Doesn’t like golf,” she said, scribbling in the notebook. “Noted.” She looked up, and I noticed the smattering of freckles on her nose, which somehow only made her even more appealing. “So, what I’m looking for here is the day-to-day life of my hero—”
“Your hero?” My eyes flew wide. “I would never call myself heroic.”
“It’s a publishing term.” She shrugged. “I just want to make sure that I don’t write anything unrealistic, or over the top, you know? I figured I would spend my days with you, live according to your schedule so I won’t be intrusive or anything, and keep notes while you keep living the billionaire lifestyle.” She waved the notebook. “I can even just sit at that table while you do…whatever it is you do.” Her smile was so damned bright.
I’d never wanted to lose a dare so much in my entire life, but Weston would never let me live it down.
“Whatever it is I do,” I said slowly.
“Exactly.” She nodded. “So why don’t we run through your schedule? If you don’t mind me starting now. Is the rest of your afternoon open?”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. For the first time, I was at a loss for words.
“Asher?” Mrs. Donaldson said through the intercom.
“Uh-huh.” I said, blinking back into the reality where I didn’t have a romance novelist implying that I would randomly have free time on a Monday afternoon.
“Your three-thirty is on the phone. Line three.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Donaldson, I’ve got it.”
Daisy’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you have appointments?”
“Just the head of one of my operations in Brazil,” I explained. “And after that, I have seven more calls scheduled.”
“Oh.” She leaned back in her seat.
“Oh,” I agreed, taking another fortifying breath. “Okay, Daisy Lewis. If you want to shadow me for the month, I’m yours. Why don’t you walk out to Mrs. Donaldson while I’m on this call? She’ll get you set up with an NDA so you can sit in on my less confidential meetings.” I pushed the little black button on my desk and the wall behind me separated, revealing a wall of monitors tuned to national news and financial headlines for quick reference.
“I see,” she said, slowly rising from the seat, her gaze taking in the wall of information.
I picked up line three. “Mr. Pereira, thank you so much for taking the time to call,” I said in Portuguese. “I was wondering if you could give me the details of this morning’s incident.”
“Absolutely,” he replied. “We had an issue in the lab that resulted in about sixty thousand dollars in damage.”
I cursed. “Anyone hurt?”
“No, sir.”
Daisy was standing, but staring at me like I was an alien. “Can you hold on for one second, Mr. Pereira?”
“Yes.”
I clicked hold and looked up at Daisy. “Her desk is just outside on the right. And feel free to start this afternoon, but the paperwork might take an hour. It might be best to start at my house tomorrow morning.”
Daisy nodded. “Seven a.m.? I’m guessing if you’re at your desk by seven-thirty?”
“Five,” I answered with a nod. “If you want me for a month, you’ve got me, Ms. Lewis. But you're going to have to keep up.”
“I can see that.” She nodded again and headed out to Mrs. Donaldson.
I clicked line three. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Tell me what happened.”
2
DAISY
My alarm aggressively beeped, the jarring sound jolting me awake. I grabbed my phone, silencing the monstrous sound before glaring at the time.
Four fucking a.m.
I groaned, stretching in an attempt to wake up my body. I sat up in my bed, seriously contemplating calling the whole thing off. I mean, come on, who the hell started their day this early?